


To cope

by pyropinkfish



Series: The Robotics Team [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Body Horror, Car Accidents, Fluff, Gen, High School AU, M/M, Multi, Recovery, dumb boy kisses, grif has asthma, references to an abusive father, secret boyfriends, typical discriminatory language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 20:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3704555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyropinkfish/pseuds/pyropinkfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of High-school AU fics following the School's very own Freelancer Robotics Club.<br/>co-writer: tumblr user ima-gayrobot<br/>NO BETA <br/>--</p><p>Grimmons prologue </p><p>One irrelevant chemical burn later causes a serious car accident that ends up strengthening a bond two dorks have with one another. Now Simmons is learning how to walk and write again, and Grif? He's there for moral support of course. And make-outs. Gym's also a pretty dumb class if you ask him. But it might be the shitty gym teacher that hit his boyfriend with his truck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To cope

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so this is kind of sad in parts, fair warning to that, but it's also vaguely important to understand the setup of the upcoming chapters my co-writer Abbi and I are working on. It also gets happy too! See, there's going to be a lot of different points of views where each character connects to a common goal - the State Championship for the Robotics Team. This takes place half a year before these events and it ends with the start of the timeline for the main fic. A lot of things mentioned gets cleared up later on. 
> 
> Also before hand: Grif has this skin disorder: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vitiligo  
> on top of having heterochromia.

Gym class; known for it’s torturous aspects of forcing students to humiliate themselves for physical activity. With the risk of failing and a limited amount of skip days possible, Dexter Grif had to stand in line with his fellow classmates, each one dreading what devious and no doubt awful exercise their gym teacher, Mr. Sarge had planned for them. The man was surely creative and he picked no favorites. No one was spared the risk of exhaustion from military inspired drills from the ex marine. 

Fear and the smell of sweat was potent. Anyone with a brain could feel the tension as Sarge paced in front of the students, all lined up ready for the slaughter. Grif took a minute to glance at the others, scowling at each of them. Richard Simmons was his typical nerd self, wearing the assigned gym uniform instead of the baggy Halo T-shirt and sweatpants like Grif, then there was Franklin Donut, with shorts so short Grif was sure that they were actually the girls' uniform. Right next to him was Lavernius Tucker, looking at the other girls in the class. To which Tex and Carolina were shooting him the dirtiest looks imaginable. Grif shuddered at the mere memory of either girls’ powerful kicks to the groin. Even farther away was David Washington, someone who was actually fit, unlike most of the males in the class. 

“Alright meat-sacks, fifty laps. Grif, that’s seventy for you.” Sarge yelled, pointing at the chubby Sophomore who only rolled his eyes in reply. When the other students laughed, everyone was doubled, him tripled. The Hawaiian managed three before sneaking to the water fountain when the old man wasn’t looking. Then again, that only inspired him to send Simmons - his most loyal ass-kisser to go look for him. 

“Hey, fatass, you still have two hundred and seven laps left.” As if on cue, Simmons was there after six minutes of Grif trying to catch his breath leaning against the wall, sucking on his inhaler. The brunet groaned, stuffing the red L shaped dispenser into his pocket before Simmons could comment. Not that it mattered, he did anyways. 

“Your lungs might be better if you didn’t smoke all the goddamn time.” 

Grif scoffed.

“Smoking is the only way I can get you to leave me alone for ten minutes.” The redhead narrowed his eyes before stepping closer, putting his hand on his shoulder. Grif replied with a half ass grunt as he tugged the taller boy down to connect their lips. He knew he tasted like the steroids from his medicine, smoke, and had a greasy texture to his lips with the bag of chips he ate before class. Simmons made sure he knew this by complaining in between breaths every chance he got. 

When they parted, Simmons turned to wash the bad taste out of his mouth with the fountain, dramatically gagging while Grif lazily smirked at him. Then it was back to arguing as they returned to class, the redhead quick to out Grif for having hid and wouldn’t get up. Their typical excuses for taking another ten minutes before they came back. As soon as they were amongst peers, Simmons was far away, leaving Grif to run back into the laps next to Tucker, his eyes lingering on the glasses wearing nerd. There was a hint of a smile that Tucker couldn’t miss.

“So you two banged in the locker room or?” He playfully jabbed his elbow against Grif’s discolored one from his vitiligo. Grif recoiled, shrugging it off like nothing happened before he snorted in response, his eyes still glued on Simmons running up ahead of them. 

“Nah, this black kid with dreads was in there jacking off in the bathroom. Kept moaning Washington’s name. It was pretty intense, you could tell he really wants to do him.” Tucker stuck his tongue out at him as Grif returned the gesture. True friendship was knowing you both were secretly queer and had a huge crush on the nerds of the class. 

\--

“Heeeeeeeeeeeey Dexxy.” 

“I swear to god, Donut, you call me ‘Dexxy’ again and I’m gonna shove this bottle down your throat.” Grif groaned, banging his forehead on the desk, only to get yelled at by the instructor. Dangerous chemicals were on the desk and you could get seriously burned with the acid they were working with. Whatever, it didn’t stop him from laying his chin and arms on the table. Grif just wanted to nap. Instead Donut and Tucker had the lab station in front of him and Leonard Church. And of course they had to be annoying, because being partnered with the asshole twin was great. 

Why Donut insisted on using his first name was beyond him, hardly anyone went by first names when there was so many students with the similar names. First names were saved for the many sets of twins their school was known to have. Besides, going by “Dexter” was way too nerdy for Grif. 

“Seriously guys. Fuck off. I don’t want to be stuck after class.” Church hissed, furiously scribbling results from the scale on the lab packet. Grif might have been making him do all the work, but honestly, it’s what was expected of him from the start. Simmons would have normally had to be his partner but names at random were drawn for this project. Bright side was the fact this was seventh period. At least they only had one more class. 

“Why? Got a date with Tex tonight?” Tucker teased, leaning over their work to point out an error on Church’s paper. His arm bumped into a beaker, the liquid spilling out on the lab station. It took a few seconds for the wetness to register and by then Tucker and Church were yelling. Grif lifted his head, rubbing his arm on his cheek before the burn hit him. He paled, looking down at his bare skin bubbling. Suddenly those safety precautions made a lot more sense to him. 

“Shit.” Panic struck when he was yanked to rinse off in the emergency shower head. Which was awful. A hard blast of ice cold water on the flesh of his arm and his cheek. By the time the whole ordeal was over the class erupted into chaos; first laughter until it was understood that Grif was in serious trouble, then it turned to chattering about the accident. Grif was escorted to the nurse’s office with second degree burns soon after all traces of the chemicals were rinsed off.

It wouldn’t have been too bad, had it not been for the fact there were splotches that only made his discolored skin look worse with red sores. Grif had been staring at a mirror for fifteen minutes, too pissed to really understand what happened other than Tucker and Donut burned him. Actually, what really sucked was the fact they called his mom. His poor busy mom who worked way too hard with three shifts as a nurse to deal with having to pick him up. 

Having her come to the office to pick him up, where a gathering of students hoarded around to see the weird fat kid with skin problems become the new “Two-Face”, was not rewarding for having gotten hurt on school property. He tried to talk Philis, the school secretary into just letting him go back to class, it didn’t hurt, but of course not, Grif’s mom just had to come get him, she wasn’t even done with her shift at the hospital. 

He walked out of the office with his hood up, ignoring nearly everyone but his bouncy little sister following him out to the car. Now he had to spend his night in the hospital while his mom worked. Great. 

\--

Simmons was worried. Why the hell wouldn’t he be? He saw his boyfriend get hurt and couldn’t get close enough to see the extent. He even made an embarrassment of himself by screaming his name when he saw the tanned boy getting shoved under the spray of water. Then to add to it, the rest of the day was filled with outrageous rumors about Grif. Simmons also needed a way home, but that was besides the point. 

No wait. That was a big point. He really was screwed. His father was going to kill him if he was late, and busses didn’t run to the area he lived in. Typically Grif picked him up since they lived two blocks from each other and the chubbier of the two had a jeep that he drove, but since Grif wasn’t there, he couldn’t drive him home. 

Message  
To: Fatass 

Hey, how am I getting home. 

wow im fine btw 

Yeah. Didn’t ask. Are your keys still in your locker?

dude seriously 

I’m serious!

here i am going to the hospital and u just  
want me for my car how sad 

Wait, are you okay? 

will u come get sister & me after class  
moms still working an will b all night

Yeah. Whatever.

[seen 2:12] 

Send:  
[type message] 

Simmons put his phone away, rubbing his eyes from under his glasses. He had to wait the rest of the day, unable to really concentrate on math (his favorite topic) just because he was worried about his father. As soon as the final bell rang, Simmons darted to Grif’s locker, thankful that the prick had it set so he just had to lift it. Ignoring the fact he’s yelled at Grif to stop being lazy or at least stop keeping important things in his unlocked locker, Simmons dug in his ratty old orange backpack and grabbed the keys. 

He got his own things out of his locker and soon was making his way to the parking lot. The old jeep, or the Warthog (Grif tried to name it the Puma, but it was slow and the radio only played god awful Polka music, so Warthog stayed as the most undesirable animal there was to begin with) sat there, looking miserable. Grif really needed to scrap the thing, but so many memories and a distinct lack of money held out. 

The damn thing took forever to start. Once the engine started, Simmons took proper measures to follow all traffic laws and pull out on the road. He had his sights set to hurry home, check in with his family, then drop the jeep off at the hospital. Grif could drive him back home and then he would spend the night doing homework. This plan was all dandy up until the truck came into view at a fast pace. 

Simmons didn’t even have time to send a prayer to the God he didn’t believe in before the large pickup truck made contact with the driver side of the jeep, sending it flying into a pole. The metal of the door and front of the Warthog slammed forwards into his body and hazily, Simmons could feel the wetness of blood against his skin. 

“Ohh… the back of my leg.” Black dots clouded over his vision until he couldn’t feel anything anymore, let alone the ooze of blood seeping from his arm. Weird… 

\--

“Hey Dexter, is your dumb boyfriend coming to get us or what.” Kai’s voice lisped, grating on the brunet’s last nerve. She kept asking the second she had read his text exchange. Something Grif didn’t even want her to do, but she was quick to have taken his phone. 

“He’s not my boyfriend. And he fucking better be.” Simmons was late. It was already 3:40. Grif really hoped that his father didn’t stop him from getting Grif and Kai. Seriously, he didn’t want to have to drive his mom’s death trap of a Buick home, or wait there in the ER for any longer than necessary. 

“You have him as ‘My Dick’ with the heart eyes emoji.” His sister shot back, rolling her eyes as she drifted her attention to her own phone. “Oh hey, everyone on Twitter thinks you died.” 

“Good. Maybe I can stop going to school.” He grumbled, boredly watching as paramedics rushed past with a new patient, screaming about a serious car accident. Oh the joys of waiting in the ER with your mom as a nurse. At least he would have something interesting to tell Simmons. 

Message  
To: My Dick  
dude some guy came in the er

omg theyre carrying in a arm holy shit

get over here already this is the most  
interesting thing all day

apparently he crashed into some  
douchebag red neck truck

ITS SARGES TRUCK HOLY SHUT

sarge is alive rip 

simmons? its like 4:30 where r u

siiiiiiiimmmmmons 

dude simmons answer me already 

sarge is here waiting in the er hes  
glaring at me omg

i think he killed a dude i never seen  
him so depressed

[delivered]

Send:  
[type message] 

 

Grif kept texting, often overhearing updates about the car accident. It was apparently big enough that it stopped the highway traffic to clear off the spatter of car parts. Some poor bastard pretty much got destroyed by a pickup truck. Soon Grif was hearing about how the kid was only seventeen and that they couldn’t get his parents on the phone. Soon he was beginning to ignore the creeping feeling something was wrong. Especially when he heard the vehicle was a jeep. 

“So uh, hey Sarge.” He half assed tried to make conversation, looking at the man still in the ER. His injuries were minimal, the truck he drove protected him. A small headache, a broken hand, but overall he was fine. Other than whatever emotional distress he was in. 

“What the hell do you want, dirtbag?” Sarge snapped, refusing to look at him. Which wasn’t that uncommon, but Grif had a dropping stomach feeling this time.

“H-hey sir, what uh… what kind of jeep did you hit?” Before the older man could answer him, Grif’s mom came rushing to his side, putting his hand on his shoulder. Confused, he looked up to meet her eyes, ignoring how his sister bounced around behind her, talking to one of the male nurses. He’ll beat him up later should he touch his sister.

“I’m so sorry Dex, he’s still in surgery.” 

“What? Who’s in surgery?” Grif laughed nervously, glancing at the unread texts from his phone. Simmons... please reply. 

“Dick’s losing a lot of blood. They don’t think they can recover the leg. Let alone even try his arm.” She whispered, squeezing his shoulder. Grif realized he couldn’t swallow, no, he couldn’t breath. He stared at his mother’s face, squinting, looking for some sort of sign that this wasn’t true. 

“I-is he… I?” Grif didn’t even know what to ask, he didn’t know what to think. He glanced at Sarge, looking for confirmation, gulping as things seemed to slow down. Why was he looking at his mom like that. What happened to Simmons? 

Grif stood up, clicking call on Simmons’ contact. He held the phone to his ear, wincing when he accidentally brushed his burned cheek, walking away from his mother in order to carry his call. Only Simmons’ wasn’t answering his phone. He always answers his phone. Why wasn’t he answering his phone now. 

“H-hey, Dick, uh, everything okay? Y-you’re really late. I’m making sure the Warthog is okay, don’t crash my god damn Jeep, you prick. Simmons? You should pick up now. I know you can hear your phone ring. C’mon man, pick up already. I wanna go home already.” He spoke on until the beep signaled that the recording cut off. He hung up before it actually sent. 

Too slowly did things seem to move. Grif sat back in the ER’s chair, waiting for some sort of update. Alone in his state of shock, Sarge took his sister back. A weird thought he put to the back of his mind as he waited with Simmons’ mom (when did she show up?) for the readhead to come out of surgery. He didn’t remember going home, but the next days seemed to blur into the same endless Tuesday night. 

His skin hurt each time he moved, and Simmons didn’t wake up. Even as hours ticked by, surgeries in and out. School wasn’t an option, but rotting away, refusing to even eat a couple of Oreos, that seemed like all he could do until Simmons would just wake up. 

\--

His eyelids felt heavy. They ached even as he forced them open, knowing he had to. Even though it was bright, that the light hurt to stare at, but he kept his eyes open. Green and searching for something that would be familiar. Voices, those sounded like he knew them, but that was white sound, he knew he only recognized it because it was English. 

“Dick!” His eyes wouldn’t focus. Blurry figures hovered over and by him. He felt numb, too warm though, hot and feelless. Like his limbs weren’t there, but they were on fire. Maybe they were on fire. he couldn’t really tell. 

“Hey, don’t move, you’ll stress yourself out, okay? Do you know where you are? Oh, Dexter’s going to be so mad he missed you waking up.” He knew that voice… Grif’s mom? 

“Wha-?”

“You were in a car accident. Don’t panic, but you suffered severe injuries.” Injuries? Dick furiously blinked, clearing his vision. He must have had a concussion. It wasn’t the first time. So he asked for some water, lifting his arm up. Or he thought he was lifting his arm. Turns out he couldn’t move said arm. Weird. He was probably on so much morphine. Really, he couldn’t tell right from left, let alone sort out the blobs in the room. 

There were more voices, empty noises speaking words that Simmons couldn’t focus or care about. He was too busy trying to sit up, only he was forced down. He caught that he had a transplant of some kind, like a kidney or whatever. He pathetically flopped back, staring at the ceiling as they tried to explain more medical terms that he honestly could care less about right now. He really had to get home before his dad yelled. He… had to sleep more. 

\--

He skipped as many days as he could get away with, the excuse about the chemical burns no longer working after a week. It was a Monday and here Grif was, in gym class, oh boy. He was dressed in his gym clothes, standing at the line in his usual spot next to Tucker. 

“Hey man, have you seen the new kid?” He grinned, glancing in the direction of the very short tan kid. Grif turned to face him, catching the tail end of his conversation to Carolina and Epsilon Church. 

“Yeah, I’m kind of a badass.” His accent was disgustingly thick, no doubt Korean, and he had an intense amount of piercings with an orange mohawk to boot. He spoke about being some great fighter, enough to bore Grif into looking away with a sheepish shrug. 

“He’s hot.” Tucker continued, taking an admiral nod at the kid before Wash crept up to them. 

“Who’s hot?” 

“Jesus! Warn a guy before you sneak up on them, christ.” The dark skinned kid snapped, glaring at the blond. Wash shrugged it off and turned to Grif, hesitatingly smiling. 

“Hi Grif, how’s Simmons doing?” Man, Grif had been dreading that. People pretending to actually care about someone just because they’re hurt. So the Hawaiian shrugged, pretending he had no clue. Pretending that he hadn’t been starving himself because he was too stressed that Simmons had just finally managed to stay awake for longer than two hours. That he wasn’t worried that Simmons had another surgery scheduled real soon again. Or that he still didn’t quite understand what happened to his leg because his pain medicine dulled reality and Simmons was a very grounded person so Simmons not understanding was scary and Grif just wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up and cry. 

“I’m not his damn keeper. I don’t even like the kissass.” He ignored the squint Tucker shot him as he shut Wash’s next comment down with his bold declaration. Thankfully Wash retreated back to his spot before Sarge finally entered the gym room. 

“He’s been gone most of the week too, man.” Not everyone knew the full extent of what happened, only that Simmons was in a terrible car accident and so was Sarge. Grif wasn’t sure how it seemed like every student knew even that much, but he was sure Kai and Frank Dufresne had something to do with it. Since Frank, or otherwise jokingly known as Doc, was a volunteer at the hospital. The accident was pretty big news there, being a small town and all. 

“Alright, listen up dirtbags. It’s a free gym today.” Sarge didn’t stay in the room, instead choosing to go directly to his office. Grif didn’t miss the excited grin on his friend’s face. 

“Whelp, it’s nap time.” Grif took to the bleachers and laid face down on the bottom row. Fuck the world. He was sleeping this period off. And the next. 

\-- 

It’s been a long week.

One met with failed attempts at reaching for his water cup with a hand that’s no longer there. This wouldn’t have been a big problem if he wasn’t left handed. Oh and on top of it, he couldn’t fucking walk to the god damn bathroom himself. 

He laid in bed, the covers thrown off so he could just stare at the mangled body that was his. As if he didn’t have enough appearance anxiety, he had to go and get his body crushed. His leg was missing half way down his thigh, leaving multiple layers of bandages to protect from infection. Apparently the metal of the Warthog had destroyed his knee and down, that they had to cut it off just to get him out. Then his stomach and side? The pole he hit hit his kidney, but hey at least it didn’t spear through his spine! And somehow, his arm was actually sliced off with a sheet of metal from the door. He always knew the Warthog was a metal trap of doom, but he never actually thought it would come to this. 

His arm cut off under the armpit, leaving nothing but the shoulder blade and a small stump that would just be enough to fit a prosthetic. Something Simmons wasn’t so sure if he was ready for. He felt like a wounded soldier, and half robot. Considering they had to put in plates to correct some of the serious damage in his body. 

How he was even alive was beyond him. Probably some cruel trick on God’s part. He was like that, always trying to kill you without taking your soul. 

The only saving grace was that at 3:30, Grif would be there to visit, to tell him about how much he probably slept through school. Fucking lazy prick. 

\--

The day couldn’t be longer. People kept trying to talk to him about Simmons. How was he, is he dead, is he a cripple now? Grif wanted to scream. If people weren’t avoiding him (which he liked), they were hounding him with questions. On top of it, the excitement about the new foreign exchange student was alive and well. Who by the way, was the biggest asshole Grif has ever had the misfortune of meeting. He just couldn’t catch a break. 

Worse. He couldn’t catch a ride. His mom was able to drive Kai and him to school, but she couldn’t pick them up, meaning Grif would have to, ugh shudder, walk. And that’s a pretty far walk. An opinion he preached to Donut, in hopes that the flamboyant boy would offer him a ride. 

“Hey, Grif.” In the middle of pleading his case to Donut, that gruff voice startled him into freezing. 

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it, and you should know that because I’m too lazy to do anything.” Grif defended himself, used to having to get out of trouble. He couldn’t handle the weight of detention for whatever crime Sarge thought he committed. 

“Shut up you good for nothing-- no. I’m riding to the hospital, you need a ride? Dirtbag…” 

“Wha-- uh… I… sure? Thanks… You’re not going to kill me are you?” Getting in a car with Sarge. That didn’t exactly seem like a good idea, but at the same time, it was a free ride. A free ride from the guy who crushed his car like a tomato can. Wait. This dick owned him a lot. 

“Get your sister and let’s go.” 

Grif didn’t need to be told twice, he gathered his stuff, and screamed for Kai to hurry the hell up. She scurried over, wrinkling her nose at the sight of their gym teacher. After explaining he would drive her home and him to the hospital, since he already needed to go for a check-up, Kai reluctantly agreed to get in to what would be the worst car ride ever. Of all time. 

When they got to the hospital, Sarge didn’t go off on his own like Grif expected. No, he stayed, worse than that, he followed Grif to Simmons’ room. Grif smiled half assed at his mom, who was there changing an IV bag, chatting Simmons’ ear off as he politely listened up until he saw Grif. 

“Hey fatass!” Insult or not, no one could miss the joy Simmons’ eyes had when he saw his boyfriend. He scurried to sit up, pulling the covers over him and then wave before stilling again. “A-and sir. Uh. Hi. I wasn’t expecting any visitors.” 

“Here’s book work, you nerd.” Grif walked up to him, dropping his bookbag off on the bed. He yearned to kiss his cheek, something to show affection, but instead he pulled a chair up and sat next to him, tugging his phone out. “You gotta see this new kid.” He declared, pulling Instagram up. It helped when he was blatantly ignoring the creeping tension between the two adults in the room. 

“Dex, honey, did Sarge drive you here?” He glanced up at his mom, arching an eyebrow at how she didn’t even look at him, she was deadlock in a staring contest with the gym teacher.

“He drove Kai home too.” Grif started slowly, squinting at the two, then back to Simmons. 

“I see.” She practically seethed like a wet cat.

“Does your mom know Sarge?” He whispered, Grif deadpanning at the mere idea of history between his mom and the horrible teacher. But then again, Sarge was a soldier at one point, and his mom traveled the world when she was a circus performer. It’s only because of the pregnancy with him that she settled in Hawaii with his grandparents until she met Kai’s dad and married, changing both their last names to match his. They never did change back to her maiden name since their divorce. 

“No. Not anymore.” She bluntly answered on the behalf of Grif, making note to storm out of the hospital room. The curtain fluttered behind her, leaving the three men alone. 

“Sir?” Simmons started, perking up at the man he admired, even after this ordeal Simmons was still a goddamn kissass. Grif sadly could believe it. Sarge didn’t really reply, in fact he turned on his heel and walked out without acknowledging them. Then it was down to two who had to share an even more awkward silence before Simmons took Grif’s phone and hummed appreciatively. 

“He’s cute.” He remarked, looking at the pulled up picture Tucker took and put on his Instagram. Grif glanced over and grinned, shooting into a recount of his day, how everyone was worried and annoying and that this kid is a huge dick. 

“Wait till you meet him. He’s a piece of shit man.” 

\-- 

Recovery was hard. Grif had the rest of the school year without Simmons by his side, soon people stopped asking him about him though. And every day he could, he would come over to visit Simmons during his therapy, he was even there when he was fitted for his arm and leg. Soon Simmons could even write with the prosthetic arm that had this weird strap to hold it securely in place. Even better was when he was able to take his first steps on his own without the crutches. 

Simmons was ready to come back to school the next year, opening their Junior year together once again with as many classes as possible. That may or may not mean Grif would copy Simmons’ work though. Actually that was a confirmed fact. Grif confirmed it their first day back the second they walked into home room together. 

“Whatever, lazy prick. You better join the Robotics team with me then.” 

“Meh. But aren’t bolth Caboose and Epsilon in it?” Grif whined. It was pretty much back to normal, something both boys were truly thankful for. 

“Both.” 

“Seriously, you sound like such an asshole when you say it.”

**Author's Note:**

> There's going to be more to come! Promise it! With other characters and more involving relationships. I know it's kind of weird Simmons was the one in an vechical accident, it's the only way I could think of to parallel Blood Gultch and his cyborg enhancements, which is also why Grif already has vitiligo. I'm trying to closely follow the RVB crew's injuries. Meh. 
> 
> Anyway, hope to keep readers. Etc etc.


End file.
